Too Late
by Koukaku
Summary: Arthur receives a letter with bad news, but he is too late. AU USUK brother fic. It takes place in England in the 1700s.


**Summery: Arthur receives a letter with bad news, but he is too late.**

 **Beta'd by _The Many Masked Identities_**

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The rain pounding against his window was beginning to grate on Arthur's nerves. It had started storming a few hours earlier and showed no sign of slowing. Arthur loathed rain. Bad things always happened when it poured. _'On a dark and storming night'_ he thought with a mocking smile. Arthur stared at the dregs in his finished teacup. Somehow he couldn't find the motivation to go make more.

He placed his cup on a table to his right and leaned back in his chair. It was a good thing that his brother, Alfred, had left two days earlier and had not been caught up in this weather. The thought of his little brother brought a fond smile to his face. Alfred wasn't so small anymore but he would always be Arthur's little brother.

Their parents had passed away when Alfred was young and Arthur was just old enough to become his legal guardian. He had been such a sweet child. Very imaginative too. Arthur remembered having his little brother sitting on his lap telling him all the things he was going to do when he got big. Alfred was set on becoming a hero like the stories that Arthur read to him when he couldn't sleep.

Arthur had teased him that he was going to save all the damsels in distress and become quite the lady's man. Alfred had gotten very serious and had told him that he was going to become strong to protect him. Arthur had been very touched but he had just ruffled Alfred's hair and explained to him that the big brothers were supposed to protect the little brothers not the other way around. Alfred had just smiled and buried himself deeper in Arthur's chest.

Alfred had moved out when he had become old enough but still visited every other month. Arthur always looked forward to when Alfred would stop by. Alfred always brought food because nothing in Arthur's house was ever appetizing. Well, except for the tea. He glared at his discarded teacup as though it was its fault it was empty.

He was jolted into awareness when he heard someone knocking rather forcefully on his door. Reluctantly, he uncrossed his leg and rose to see what they wanted. He pulled the door open and raised his hand that wasn't on the doorknob in a vain attempt to shield his face from the rain and wind.

Peering into the gloomy weather he observed the stranger upon his doorstep. The man was soaked and Arthur could see him shaking in the cold. However he didn't seem too bothered by it. Arthur saw his lips move, perhaps in a greeting, but he couldn't hear anything over the booming thunder.

The newcomer shoved a damp envelope into his face, tipped his cap, and hastily made his way back to the carriage at the end of the driveway. Arthur fumbled slightly with the envelope while he closed the door. He glanced at the messy scrawl with his name on it as he strode back to his comfortable chair.

Using the light his crackling fireplace provided he withdraw the moist letter from its package. He read it once, twice, three times. Each time he grew paler as he eyes were drawn back to a single line.

 _Alfred F. Jones will be publically executed at…_

It couldn't be. No. _No._

 _Alfred F. Jones will be publically executed…_

There was no way. This had to be a prank. Yes, some sick prank.

 _Alfred F. Jones… publically executed…_

But it wasn't. Arthur knew. No one would do all of this for a prank and the letter was all too legitimate. The signature and the seal he had to break to open it in the first place were genuine.

 _Alfred… executed…_

Those two words bounced around in his head. Why would anyone want to _kill_ his little brother? What gave them the _right_ to? The law had ordered this, but why? Arthur didn't remember. Scanning the list again he searched for an explanation. His hands were shaking and the words were beginning to blur together. His eyes stung, but he blinked the oncoming tears away.

 _…_ _guilty of theft…_

Theft? Alfred stole something? Alfred hated stealing. He always said that no matter what you should never steal. That you should earn what you get. There had to have been a mistake. But there had to have been _some_ proof for him to be accused. No, he told himself. Don't doubt him.

Taking a deep breath he pulled himself together. His eyes latched onto the time of the execution and darted up to his clock. It was soon. He could make it if he hurried. Determined, he grabbed his coat and was pulling his arms through as he made his way toward the stable. He hurriedly saddled his horse. It would be faster to ride than take his carriage.

Kicking his horse harshly in the side to get him to go as fast as possible, he headed towards where he knew the executions to take place. Alfred lived in the next town but he could make it. He had to.

The rain began to slow. It wasn't noticeable at first but as the sharp needle like pain of the rain began to lessen Arthur knew the storm was ending. He wanted to find some hope in this but the dread weighing heavily on his chest could not be deterred.

 _Faster._ He told himself. _I have to go faster._ He leaned forward as he drew closer. Mud was being kicked up by his horse's hooves and getting his already soaked shirt filthy. Arthur couldn't bring himself to care. He could see a crowd of people around the execution platform.

As he neared the edge of the crowd he pulled his reins tight and practically threw himself off his horse. He stumbled forward shakily, parting the crowd. When he reached the front of the crowd he made eye contact with his brother for a second before Alfred's head was sliced off. Eye's lifeless; Alfred's head fell to the floor and rolled a bit before staring blankly out at the sea of people.

Dead. Alfred was dead. His brother was dead. His only remaining family member was dead. Was beheaded. Arthur fell to his knees and stared silently horrified at his little brother's corpse. Eyes dull, skin pale, and no smile on his chapped lips. Alfred always smiled. Always.

People left. The lack of murmuring voices was the only thing signifying their absence. Arthur wasn't sure how long he sat in the mud. His mind playing one word over and over in his head.

 _Late, late, late, late, late, late, late…_

There were soft footsteps coming his way but he paid them no mind. A hand came down on his shoulder and someone was talking to him, "I'm sorry! It's all my fault! I did it! I stole it and told him!"

 _Late, late, late, late, late, late, late…_

Cold hands cup Arthur's tear stained face and force him to look away from the body and instead into another's guilt ridden eyes. Somewhere inside his head a soft voice supplies that this is Matthew, Alfred's best friend. Alfred.

 _Late, late, late, late, late, late, late…_

Matthew was sobbing, "the police came around and he took the blame! I didn't… I didn't…" Matthews voice became hysterical, "I didn't want to die!" He might have kept talking but Arthur had retreated back into his mind. Alfred was innocent. Alfred was dead.

 _Late, late, late, late, late, late, late…_

Someone else came and led Matthew away, murmuring comforting words about how it wasn't his fault. But it _was_ Matthews fault. He should have admitted to what he did. Or just not have let Alfred take the blame. Why did his little brother have to be such a hero? Arthur's head slowly turned back to where his brother still lay.

 _Late, late, late, late, late, late, late, too late._

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 **Reviews are appreciated.**


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